The Courtship of Bruce Wayne's Butler
by Syl
Summary: Dr. Leslie Thompkins walks into the lives of Alfred and his young charge, sixyearold Bruce Wayne.


Summary: Dr. Leslie Thompkins walks into the lives of Alfred and his young charge, six-year-old Bruce Wayne.

Author's Note: This is for Tammy: May all your days with 'Bunny' be filled with love and happiness. 

Acknowledgement: Inspired by Char's "Shower Fic" Challenge--Fic Request #1: Restocking Day.

Disclaimer: All the characters are owned by DC Comics and Time/Warner; this is an original story that does not intend to infringe on their copyright. Feedback is welcome!

Copyright: May 2003

****

The Courtship of Bruce Wayne's Butler

By Syl Francis

**** 

A pair of sensible shoes appeared unexpectedly. Alfred froze in place, his rather compromising position bringing an instant of self-reproach. As the Wayne family valet, Alfred was the embodiment of exemplary decorum; unfortunately, at this very moment, he was on all fours, his nose almost touching the plush carpet in Dr. Wayne's study. 

Giving a mental sigh, Alfred's eyes slowly traveled up.

Despite his personal embarrassment, he paused and took appreciative note of the shapely legs before him. The dark cotton, straight skirt like the shoes was sensibly unfashionable and demurely covered the owner's knees. The sound of a throat being cleared overhead announced the early arrival of Dr. Wayne. 

Taking hold of what remained of his dignity, Alfred slowly climbed to his feet. He nodded awkwardly at the woman who gazed back at him calmly. After a moment, Alfred realized that he was staring at her. Her lovely eyes had held him spellbound for a brief second. 

"Dr. Wayne...I do beg your pardon, sir," he stammered. "I was--"

"Alfred! I found her!" A dark head suddenly appeared from behind Wayne's desk. It was a boy of no more than six or seven. He triumphantly held up his prize, a lizard. "She's okay. Just a little scared." The boy tenderly stroked the lizard in his open palm. "You're okay, aren't you, Annie?"

"Annie?" the woman asked.

"Master Bruce, perhaps you should go to your--" Alfred began.

"She's my lizard!" Bruce said in reply to the woman's question.

"Lizard?" Dr. Wayne spoke sharply. "Bruce, how many times have I spoken to you about--?"

"A lizard?" Ignoring Wayne, the woman spoke quietly as she crossed the room towards Bruce. "May I see?" Bruce glanced at his father, who looked back with stern disapproval.

"Bruce, this is Dr. Leslie Thompkins," Dr. Wayne said. "Dr. Thompkins and I are going to be working together." Bruce nodded shyly, the imposing figure of his father rendering him tongue-tied as it always did. He swallowed and looked down, shuffling his feet in a show of discomfort.

Alfred came to the boy's rescue. "Master Bruce, why don't you introduce Dr. Thompkins to Annie?"

At Alfred's words, Bruce's small face lit in a happy smile, and he held his lizard out for inspection. Dr. Thompkins gave Bruce a look of understanding, setting the normally shy boy at his ease. 

"Oh, she's beautiful," Dr. Thompkins murmured. She followed the boy's lead and gently stroked the lizard with a single finger. Holding out her palm, she looked questioningly at Bruce. "May I?" Bruce looked up at her uncertainly, and then at Alfred who nodded, and then back at Dr. Thompkins. Again, something in her eyes crumpled his normal defenses, and he tenderly placed Annie in Dr. Thompkins' open palm.

"Why 'Annie'?" she asked, her eyebrow quirking quizzically. Bruce beamed at the question. It was unusual for a grownup to ask him about his interests. Except for Alfred, of course. Alfred was his best friend.

"On account of she's an orphan." Bruce spoke with rapid enthusiasm, running his words into each other. "And 'cause when I found her, she was in a puddle and drown-ded. Only Alfred said that she wasn't and that the sun would come out tomorrow and it did and she's not dead!" Dr. Thompkins smiled as the excited boy paused for breath. "So, I decided to call her Annie!"

Dr. Wayne cleared his throat again, and spoke in disapproval. "Bruce, I have spoken to you before about making pets out of wild things. So help me, sometimes I think that I might as well be speaking to a fence post!" 

Bruce looked stricken at the tongue-lashing. It seemed that everything he did met with stern criticism from his father. He felt the sudden sting of tears threaten. He looked down again, unable to face the look of rebuke in Wayne's eyes.

"Oh, no, sir!" Alfred said without thinking, again coming to Bruce's defense. "Master Bruce is an exceptionally bright child, sir. His interests are quite varied and--" He paused, searching for a word. "--unique, I must admit. But if you would only talk to him, sir...spend time with him, then you'd--" He stopped, appalled at his own words. "Dr. Wayne, I do beg your pardon, sir. I spoke out of turn."

"Daddy, I know I can't keep Annie," Bruce said quietly. "Alfred said that it wouldn't be right to cage her." He looked down at Annie, and sadly, ran his finger down her full length. Bruce bravely met his father's eyes. "Alfred said I should her put in Mommy's rose garden. That way I could visit her every day...May I, sir?"

"Alfred said that?" Dr. Thompkins asked. She gave Alfred a warm smile of approval. "Bruce, I think that that's a grand idea! What do you say we take Annie outside to her new home?" Bruce nodded enthusiastically and Alfred smiled his gratitude at her kind words. Dr. Thompkins glanced up at Wayne. "Thomas, would you excuse us for a moment?"

Dr. Wayne glanced from one person to the next, finally settling on his son's anxious expression. Do I put that look on your face, Bruce? he asked himself. Did the smile that his little boy always seemed to have for his mother, or for Alfred, and now apparently, for Leslie not have room for him as well? But then, when have I given you cause to turn that smile on me? Wayne admitted silently. Taking a deep breath, Wayne crossed the room in two short strides, and to Bruce's surprised delight, he ran his finger lightly down Annie's length.

Annie rewarded him by curling her tail around his finger.

"She likes you, Daddy!" Bruce cried. "Annie likes you!" Dr. Wayne reached over and drew his son to him.

"What do you say, we all escort Annie to her new home?" he asked. Bruce answered by hugging his father's neck. Hand in hand, father and son stepped outside together.

Dr. Thompkins hung back slightly and waited for Alfred. "Aren't you coming, Alfred?" she asked. Watching Bruce and his father disappear around the house, Alfred smiled.

"Dr. Thompkins, I wouldn't miss this for all the tea in China," he declared. Smiling, she matched his pace and walked side-by-side with him.

"Please, call me, 'Leslie,'" she said. There was something in her tone that made Alfred turn and catch her eye. A brief look passed between them, resulting in a sudden awkwardness. They quickly averted their eyes, and neither spoke again until they reached the rose garden. 

They watched as Wayne and Bruce released Annie back into the wild. As they watched the little father-son drama play out before them, Alfred tentatively brushed his fingers against Leslie's hand. To his delight, he felt her light touch respond in kind. Standing side by side neither spoke; yet, each knew that something new and wonderful had just transpired between them.

****

Yes, something new and wonderful...but complicated. Alfred added this last to himself. 

Leslie was his employer's partner in the Wayne Foundation's newest civic venture--a free clinic in the middle of one of Gotham City's poorest neighborhoods. In the weeks following their initial meeting, the Wayne-Thompkins Clinic had opened, and had proven a success, meeting a much-needed deficiency in Gotham medical care.

Because of his many business dealings and philanthropic requirements, not to mention his own extensive medical practice, Dr. Wayne was a partner in name only, and Leslie actually ran the clinic fulltime. Nonetheless, Leslie was Wayne's partner and equal. And Dr. Wayne was Alfred's employer. As such, in Alfred's eyes this placed Leslie above him in station, and the very proper English butler would never consider crossing the line.

Therefore, since that first day in which he had acted quite improperly with Leslie, Alfred vowed to comport himself as the very soul of decorum. As a result, whenever Leslie happened to call the manor or stop by to confer with Wayne, Alfred addressed her with great punctiliousness, maintaining only a proper tone and demeanor in her presence. 

Leslie's warm smile became questioning at first, then turned to hurt, and finally, to resigned acceptance. Now, when she called or stopped by, Leslie greeted him with only a cool civility, a mirror to his own. 

At odd moments, Alfred found himself staring into space, whatever chore he was doing temporarily forgotten...

"Alfred? Alfred?" Bruce's voice broke through Alfred's latest attack of momentary fugue. Recovering quickly, Alfred continued dusting the same table that he had now been working on for almost fifteen minutes.

"Yes, Master Bruce?" he asked feigning his usual aplomb. Bruce sighed.

"What color are her eyes?" His tone indicated that he'd already asked this question. 

Turning around, Alfred asked, "Whose eyes, young sir?" 

"Dr. Leslie's," Bruce spoke with the infinite patience of a much put-upon six-year-old. At his young charge's words, Alfred inexplicably felt his face grow suddenly hot.

"Dr. Leslie's eyes?" Alfred repeated. 

"Your face is all red," Bruce observed.

"Why ever in the world are you asking about the color of Dr. Leslie's eyes?" Alfred said, attempting to gain the upper hand in the conversation. Shrugging, Bruce held up a paper he was working on. Taking it, Alfred studied it closely. It was a child's stylized collage of the Wayne-Thompkins Clinic. The building was centered on the page, while the four corners depicted different scenes one might expect to see inside the clinic. A female figure that Alfred immediately recognized as Leslie figured prominently in each scene. 

"What is this, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked. 

"A present," Bruce said with a shrug. "I think Dr. Leslie's nice." He smiled up at Alfred. "Don't you think so, Alfred?" At Alfred's nod, Bruce added, "I like her. So does Daddy. Mommy, too. Mommy said that Dr. Leslie is a--" Bruce paused to remember his mother's words. "--a 'godsend' for Gotham City. What's a 'godsend,' Alfred?" Before Alfred could reply, the boy continued, "She always helps people and never asks them for nothing."

"Anything," Alfred corrected automatically. "She never asks them for anything."

"Yeah, that's what I said," Bruce agreed. "So, I wanted to give her a present." He gave Alfred a look that spoke of six-year-old wisdom. "Do you like Dr. Leslie, Alfred?"

"Of course, I like her, Master Bruce," Alfred replied rather stiffly.

"That's good. 'Cause she likes you, too," Bruce said. "I can tell."

"Oh?"

"Sure. Dr. Leslie likes everybody."

"I see." Alfred smiled ruefully to himself. "Of course, she does."

Alfred turned his attention to the last drawing on the page. He could tell that it was Bruce's childlike attempt to draw a portrait of the good Dr. Leslie, who likes everybody, Alfred reminded himself. Most of the portrait was already colored in except for the eyes. Clearing his throat, Alfred gave the drawing back to Bruce, and without another word returned to his housework. About to head towards the kitchen, he paused at the door.

"Blue," he said. "Her eyes are blue." As Alfred walked down the main hallway, he murmured, "The same blue as a clear sky after an April shower." The image formed in his mind while he walked, bringing a smile to his lips. The phone rang, jangling him out of his reverie. 

"Wayne residence."

"Alfred, I need a favor." Wayne's voice sounded harried. "I promised Leslie that I'd help her inventory the clinic supply room today--it's a real mess and we've put it off for weeks--but I'm tied up with an emergency. Alfred, could you--?"

"Of course, sir," Alfred said. "I shall call Dr. Thompkins and inform her that we'll be there this afternoon."

"We?"

"Master Bruce and I, sir," Alfred replied. "Mrs. Wayne is tied up all day today with her committee meetings. Is that all, sir?" Alfred had a nagging suspicion that Wayne had something else of which he wished to speak. His doubts were proven correct the next minute.

There was an awkward pause at the other end. "Alfred, I have a second favor to ask you." There was another pause. Alfred waited patiently for Wayne to continue. "Next week is Bruce's birthday."

"Yes, sir."

"He'll be seven."

"Yes, sir."

"Alfred...I don't have a clue what he'd like. You--you know him...better than I do, apparently. He talks to you. Like this whole silly business with Annie, the lizard. Alfred, releasing Annie into the Rose Garden with Bruce was probably the single best moment I've had with my son in a long, long time. I felt that we really connected that day, you know?" 

"Yes, sir. If memory serves me correctly, Master Bruce talked about that incident for several days afterward." 

"Alfred, I don't want to lose that feeling of 'connectedness' with my son again. Please...how can I reach him? What does he--?" There were loud voices coming from the other end of the line. "--yes, yes! I'm coming!" Wayne said sharply. "Alfred, I have to go--"

"Zorro, sir."

"What? Alfred, what did you say?"

"Master Bruce has spoken several times these past few days of his desire to see the new movie version of Zorro. Apparently, the masked avenger is his new hero, along with the Gray Ghost and the Green Lantern." Recalling Bruce's little boy excitement while he retold of his unexpected sighting of the famous Green Lantern during a recent visit to Metropolis, Alfred smiled warmly. "The movie premier is next week, I believe. Just in time for Master Bruce's birthday."

"Alfred, you're a life saver!" Wayne said and hung up. Smiling, Alfred called the clinic. 

****

"Alfred, you're a life saver!" Leslie openly admired the work that Alfred and Bruce had done. 

When the two had first inspected the supply room, even Alfred's normally cool poise was slightly taken aback. As Wayne had said, the room was indeed a disorganized mess. Unopened boxes were stacked ceiling high. Supplies were shelved (or un-shelved for that matter) in an apparently haphazard manner.

"But I know where everything is," Leslie had protested, balking at Alfred's insistence that he immediately reorganize the room and catalogue the location of each item.

"That's Master Bruce's standard reply each time I request he put away his toy train set," Alfred retorted.

Smiling, Leslie ruffled Bruce's dark hair. "I guess that great minds think alike, eh, Bruce?" she asked. "Alfred did say that you were an exceptionally bright boy. I guess this proves he was right!" Bruce giggled at her silliness. She looked up and caught Alfred's eye.

The same electric charge that had passed between them all those weeks ago by the rose garden struck them again. Slightly shaken by the unexpectedly strong attraction he felt for Leslie, Alfred looked away, avoiding direct eye contact. For her part, Leslie busied herself with reading labels on the shelf.

"Your face is all red, Dr. Leslie," Bruce observed ingenuously. He turned to Alfred and was about to ask for his agreement, when he stopped. "Yours, too, Alfred. Like before--when I asked you about the color of Dr. Leslie's eyes. Remember?"

At the boy's words, Leslie hesitantly glanced at Alfred, who shyly returned her look. Leslie cleared her throat and asked in an unnaturally high voice.

"The color of my eyes?" 

Averting his own eyes, Alfred nodded. "Yes," he said, struggling against the sudden knot in his throat. He explained about Bruce's drawing, and as he spoke, he gestured that Bruce should present Leslie with his gift. Excitedly, Bruce pulled the many-times folded and much-crumpled sheet out of his pants pocket and shyly handed it over to Leslie. Smiling, Leslie carefully unfolded the paper.

Basking in Leslie's words of praise, Bruce pointed at the portrait he'd rendered of her. "Alfred said your eyes were the same color as the sky after an April shower." Suddenly pensive, the boy did not notice the brief look that passed between the two normally reticent adults. "How long until April, Alfred?" he asked, thinking that he'd like to compare the blue in Leslie's eyes with that of the April sky. "Alfred?"

Abruptly, both Alfred and Leslie jumped, and to a six-year-old perspective appeared inexplicably guilty about something. Like how he looked when Mommy or Alfred caught him with his hand in the cookie jar. And their faces were even redder than before. He shook his head and sighed. Bruce didn't think he'd ever understand grownups.

"I appreciate you coming today, Alfred, Bruce," Leslie said looking everywhere except at them. "But you really shouldn't have. There's no real rush to inventory the supply room. As long as I know where everything is, we're holding our heads above water here."

"And how long do you think you'll be able to keep that pretty head of yours high and dry?" Alfred retorted. "Dr. Wayne asked me to help in his stead today, and by Jove, that is exactly what Master Bruce and I did. However, this supply room will not keep itself in a neat and orderly fashion on its own. Indeed, from the looks of things, I'd suspect entropy to set in within a week. Therefore, Dr. Thompkins, I intend to make a weekly pilgrimage to this place and ensure that it does not happen."

"What? But, Alfred, I assure you that that is entirely unnecessary," Leslie protested. By way of reply, Alfred boldly took her hand in his, and steadily held her eyes.

"On the contrary, Dr. Thompkins," Alfred said formally, "I insist on my stopping by once a week--" He paused and took a step closer to her. "--to ensure that all is well here." Still gazing into her eyes, Alfred smiled warmly. At her answering smile, he felt his throat constrict. He fought down a sudden desire to take her into his arms and kiss her madly; instead, he bent down and gallantly kissed her hand. Straightening, he drank in her still-youthful beauty. "Until next week, Dr. Thompkins," he said. "I remain your ever faithful servant. Good day, Madam. Come, Master Bruce. It is time to return home."

Apparently forgotten up to that point, Bruce had stood back and watched, mouth agape. At the sound of his name being called, the boy suddenly came back to reality and hurried after Alfred who was already halfway out the door. Back in the family limo, Bruce was bursting with questions, but catching a single glance out of Alfred's eyes in the rearview mirror, he decided against voicing them. 

Reclining in the soft leather upholstery, Bruce smiled. Alfred really did like Dr. Leslie. And she liked him. As the afternoon's activities began to weigh down on him, Bruce began to nod off. As he did, his last thought was of Alfred and Leslie getting married.

****

"Will you marry her?" Bruce's unexpected question caught Alfred flatfooted.

"What? Will I marry who, Master Bruce?" Alfred asked, already knowing the answer. He looked across the kitchen at his youngest charge. 

Bruce was dressed and ready for the movie premier of 'Zorro.' He and the Waynes would be out all evening, and Alfred had the rest of the night off. He'd intended on calling Leslie and asking her out to dinner.

"You know...Dr. Leslie." Before Alfred could reply, Bruce asked what was weighing most heavily on his mind. "If you marry her will you have to go away and leave me?" 

"Leave you?" Alfred echoed. "Master Bruce whatever gave you such an idea?" He felt a sharp pain in his heart as the boy turned wide, dark eyes towards him. The first suspicious signs of tears formed but were bravely blinked back. Bruce quickly wiped his eyes on his jacket sleeve. "Master Bruce," Alfred gently chastised as he hurriedly crossed the room to Bruce's side. "How often must I remind you that your sleeve is not to be used as a handkerchief? Here. Use this." Alfred handed Bruce one of the seemingly infinite number of ever-present handkerchiefs that he carried. Bruce did as instructed. "Now, blow your nose, young sir." 

Bruce again followed orders. Once done, the small boy sat with his eyes downcast. Reaching across the table, Alfred gently placed a single finger under the boy's chin and pulled up. Gazing into the boy's eyes, Alfred spoke softly. "Now what is all this nonsense about my leaving you?"

"Well...don't you like Dr. Leslie?" he asked. At Alfred's nod, he added, "Don't you want to marry her?" Alfred sat back, and unable to meet Bruce's eyes, turned away. "That's what I thought." Bruce stood up. "I'd better go. Mommy and Daddy are probably waiting for me."

"Master Bruce?" Bruce stopped. "You know that I am your friend, don't you?" Bruce nodded a bit reluctantly. "And friends don't stop being friends just because one gets married and possibly moves away, do they?" Bruce shook his head 'no' and shrugged as if unsure. "If I were to marry and had to move away, would you stop being my friend?" Alfred asked sadly. Bruce looked up slowly and seeing the hurt in Alfred's eyes, he suddenly ran to the man whom he considered his best friend, and threw his arms around his waist.

"I'll never stop being your friend, Alfred," he promised fiercely. "Never! I love you, Alfred!"

"And I love you, Master Bruce," Alfred said tenderly. "Now run along now. Your mother and father have planned a wonderful birthday celebration for you this evening. First the movie, and then dinner afterwards. Just the three of you."

"I wish you were coming, too, Alfred," Bruce said wistfully.

"Nonsense," Alfred replied brusquely. "This is the way it should be. Just you and your mother and father." He held the boy by the shoulders. "And I'll be here waiting for you when you come home tonight."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart." 

Grinning happily, Bruce gave Alfred one final hug and ran out the kitchen towards his waiting parents. After the boy left, Alfred stood and watched the swinging kitchen door. He thought again about calling Leslie and asking her out to dinner. Shaking his head, he walked around the kitchen island and made himself a pot of tea.

No, he'd made a birthday promise to Bruce that he would be here waiting for him when he came home. After all, a boy turns seven only once, and this particular boy was more important to Alfred than his own personal needs. Besides, now there would also be his weekly visits to the clinic. He felt his face flush as he remembered his lips on Leslie's hand. A surgeon's hand, he knew, strong and capable, yet soft and feminine.

For a brief instant, Alfred fantasized his lips on hers, and just as quickly, wiped the vision from his head. Fools rush in, he reminded himself.

No, better to take matters slowly, he counseled silently. We are not a couple of giddy teenagers in the first throes of romantic love. We are both adults and have responsibilities that neither of us can shirk. There will be other occasions for going out to dinner.

"As for tonight, Leslie will understand." 

****

Alfred stood outside, staring at the seedy facade of the Wayne-Thompkins Clinic. The neighborhood, which had been poor to begin with, was now considered one of the most crime-infested in the city, if not the nation. So-called Crime Alley had never recovered after that terrible murder all those years ago; however, the clinic had somehow managed to stay in operation.

The infamous murders of Dr. Thomas Wayne and his socialite wife, Martha, were still unsolved after all these years. Even the Dark Knight, despite his best efforts, had not been able to bring the lone gunman to justice. But then, when the only eyewitness was a traumatized seven-year-old child who had been subjected to the horrifying sight of his parents being brutally gunned down before him, it was highly unlikely that the case would ever be solved.

Still, Alfred knew that it remained opened in the cold case file of several people who'd been touched by it in some way or another: Commissioner Gordon, his daughter, Barbara Gordon, Officer Dick Grayson, and millionaire philanthropist, Bruce Wayne--the sole eyewitness to the crime. Between these four dedicated individuals, and others who'd somehow been admitted into Bruce Wayne's very exclusive 'family,' the killer might someday be finally brought to justice.

Until that day happened, Alfred would continue to keep his birthday promise to his seven-year-old charge and always be there for him when he came home at night. 

Alfred started up the worn, discolored steps that led to the clinic's door, and hesitating slightly, knocked. The door opened immediately. It was Thursday afternoon and he was expected. 

A pair of warm blue eyes, so like the April sky after a spring shower, welcomed him. Gallantly, he took the proffered hand and brought it up to his lips by way of greeting. 

As for his dinner date with Leslie, it was postponed indefinitely. Releasing her hand, Alfred peered into those still youthful blue eyes and knew that after all these years Leslie did indeed understand.

****

The End


End file.
